Beneath This Arch
by Merrybeans
Summary: Stressed from the pressures of the Progress, Prince Roald asks a woman to meet him one night, beneath an arch in the gardens. He slips away from the ball to meet her, beneath that arch, in the middle of the dark night...


_A/N: A short piece about Roald and Shinko. May be continued in the future but for the moment, is used entirely as an exercise to get rid of writer's block. Set during _Squire.

_All concrit and suggestions are, as always, welcomed._

_May or may not fit in with _Shadowed Passions_. Up to you, really._

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise as Tamora Pierce's.

**Beneath This Arch.**

-

_Beneath this arch we kissed_

_And beneath this sky we counted_

_Each star that winked and _

_Each wind that whispered_

_Sweet blossoms in our ears._

-

---

They met beneath the archway like forbidden lovers. She was there waiting for him when he slipped in under cover from the night and its prying eyes.

He took a second to regain his breath and then whispered, 'I hope you don't mind me requesting such an inappropriate rendezvous.'

She smiled, but it was too dark for him to really see. 'Not at all.'

'Good.' Their words were so quiet and soft they were like little wisps of air, ghostly mutterings of forgotten secrets.

'Are you warm enough?' he asked. It _was_ the middle of the night and a mist had started to roll off the nearby lake, dampening all it touched. Even protected beneath the stone of the arch he could feel the fog already beginning to get beneath his clothes and press against his skin.

'Yes, I took the precaution of bringing a cloak to cover my hair and it is keeping me sufficiently warm, thank you.'

He didn't know how she'd managed to do _that_. He guessed the cloak was to cover her identity much more than her hair, but he couldn't think how she'd gotten away with it. He'd barely been able to get out at _all_, let alone with a cloak, _and_ he'd had to keep carefully in the shadows on his way here so as not to be seen.

The Progress- winding its way through the realm like a slow and ponderous snake- had stopped at Tirragen for a few days and, in an effort to keep the dubious family in line, the Court was being entertained in the fief itself. A fief that had spent all its funding on entertainment could not support a rebellion.

This was their third night at fief Tirragen and there had only been a days ride between this and there previous stop, fief Darroch. They hadn't actually stayed in the fief itself at Darroch, instead sprawling across the fields and valleys around it and spending their money in the village there.

Their time at Darroch had been filled with friendly (and some not so friendly) tournaments. Everything from jousting to wrestling was competed, leaving warriors bruised- and some with wounded pride. While in Tirragen, their days were filled with leisurely activities. The woods nearby were hunted each afternoon, and the large lake fished for its tasty trout. Every man wanted to have the honour of catching the biggest fish.

The evenings were filled with splendour and ceremony. There were grand banquets; food cooked and styled with the greatest skill. There would be some form of entertainment while the courses were served: musicians carefully tucked away in the gallery above, or a jester, or some other such foolery.

Once the food was finished with, the tables were swept to the sides of the room and the Grand Hall became a ball room. The ladies stood in groups gossiping and the men sat in corners enjoying raunchy jokes and too many cups of port. And the dancing would go on until late into the night, when everyone would return to their rooms and collapse for a few precious hours before starting it all again.

In the security of the arch's deep shadows, Prince Roald took a step closer to her.

'All this pomp and ceremony is driving me mad,' he whispered.

If she had been any other woman, she would have giggled- but she repressed it. 'It is in your name,' she replied softly.

He pulled a face. 'Only partly. And that still doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.'

His words were perfectly sincere: he _wasn't_ enjoying these grand evenings. He was watched constantly. Never left alone, he was continuously pestered by the young court ladies still wishing to dance with him, despite his engagement. He danced with them, but was careful never to favour a lady with more than one dance, for he was all too aware of the gossipers scrutinising him with their hawk eyes. One wrong move, and they'd be on him.

Yet he was watched just as much for spending time with his betrothed. _Then_ the critics accused him of ignoring everybody else. He just couldn't win. Even when he wanted to have a conversation with Princess Shinkokami- the woman he'd be spending the rest of his _life_ with- they had to have someone else chaperoning them, listening to every word they muttered and commenting on it.

That's why Roald had asked her to meet him secretly.

'If,' Roald began, his voice tight, 'I have to endure one more mother dragging me away from you, one more comment about-'

Shinko closed the distance between them in a few short steps. She put her hand on his arm. 'Calm, my prince. They can do nothing.'

He drew in a ragged breath and sighed. 'I know. Forgive me, my anger is misplaced. I just… I just want to be able to _talk_ to you a little without having some old dear tutting and cooing over my shoulder!'

'You know there are traditions about these things,' she whispered.

He smiled grimly. 'And we are breaking their traditions just being here together.' Gently- almost timidly- he reached up and placed his palm against her cheek.

'I do not mind,' she replied, and her words were almost a response to his actions. 'We are doing nothing wrong. If any person should find us so, we can say we are walking the gardens as any other young couple might do.'

Roald arched an eyebrow. 'In this mist?'

Shinko looked out of the archway. She couldn't see five paces away. 'Well, perhaps we were walking and the mist came unexpectedly and we took cover.'

He chuckled. 'I didn't know you liked me enough to make up such blatant tales, your Highness.'

She blushed; he couldn't see it but he felt her skin grow warm beneath his hand. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

'I like you well enough, Roald.' He could barely make out her words her voice was so quiet.

He was silent for a few moments, and he wondered if it was right for his heart to be racing so much. Then he whispered, 'I like you too, Shinko. In fact,' his tone brightened, with a definite hint of joviality, 'I _admire_ you greatly.'

This time she didn't stop the laughter, and he stroked her cheek with his fingertips. Although she couldn't see it, he was smiling, happy that he'd made her laugh. The tense moment had passed.

'Perhaps we should return now,' Shinko said when her laughter had stopped. 'They will be missing us.'

He sighed. 'I suppose you are right. Do you think I'll get away with dancing with you again tonight?' His other hand scooped up her hip as a flash of hot desire dashed through him. He heard her gasp a little and released the tightness of his hold on her. He had to remember she was not the same as any other Tortallan Lady of Court.

Clearing her throat, Shinko replied, 'Four dances in one evening, my prince? –I do not think they would like that.'

He sighed again, his breath running over her skin. 'No, I feared you would say that.'

'There will be other nights, my prince; other dances.'

'Yes. And other pestering questions to answer.'

'And you will answer them with all civility.'

'I will. And you will dance with me at these other fated evenings?'

'I will.' She was smiling- _grinning_- and utterly unable to stop herself.

'Good, I don't think I could bear them if you didn't. Now I know why Uncle Raoul is always trying to evade these types of events. I completely sympathise with him and wish him luck with the matchmaking mamas around nowadays.'

She giggled a little, pressing her palms against his chest in an uncharacteristically physical display of affection. It was something about the way they had met like this, she told herself. It was the secrecy, the romance, the mist- whatever it was, it made her feel- for a snatched moment- completely unrestrained. 'Roald, they cannot match you with any Lady of Court; you are engaged already.'

He gathered her little fingers in his hands. 'Yet still they try. I will be glad when all this fancy travelling is done with and we can return home and marry.'

A little something caught in her throat. Was it odd that they had never actually discussed their marriage before?

'Patience,' she managed to mutter. 'All in due time.'

'I know,' he sighed. 'But my patience is wearing thin. Especially when _they_ keep testing it so.' He brushed hair back from her face, knocking the hood of her cloak down by mistake.

'Sorry,' he mumbled.

'There is nothing to apologise for. Leave it, Roald,' she said as he moved to replace her hood.

'As you wish, but don't catch cold. I would hate to see you ill, especially because of me.'

'That is sweet of you, but I shall be fine.'

'It _is_ misty, Shinko. Perhaps we should go back inside…'

'If you think it is best, my prince.'

He could see her eyes a little now, just where the moonlight caught them slightly. They were fixed intently on his face.

'Unfortunately, I do think it's best,' he whispered, suddenly finding his words came out wispy. Her face was incredibly close to his. 'Otherwise they'll be sending out search parties for us.'

She nodded and pulled away. Peering out of their archway to check for anyone, she said, 'Shall I return first?'

'Yes, of course. I would not leave you standing outside in this.'

She smiled. 'You are very chivalrous, my lord.' Slipping her hood up, she disappeared into the mist with a whisper of silken skirts.

He let out a shaky breath and collapsed against the stone wall. It was damp.

A little moan escaped him. He was _too_ damn chivalrous, that was his problem. Why, by all the Gods, hadn't he kissed her when he had the chance?

---


End file.
